Untamed (Bratva Kings #2)

Chapter 11

RODION

It’s a strange way to date someone, but here I am, outside her building, coffee in hand and mask in place.

Last night, I made my decision. My contact here in LA, a detective who works well enough for cash and discretion, dug up what I needed on Ember—and her fucking stepbrother, Shawn.

The way she flinched at his name, froze at his texts… I’d seen enough. The messages he’s been sending her?

Screw discretion. My brothers will get over it.

I’ll fucking kill him.

This morning, the texts from Rafail came in, each one sharper than the last.

Rafail

The Romanovs’ Gala next week. You must bring a woman, Rodion. Everyone is watching. Jesus. If only it were your wife.

I can’t focus on this, not yet. She barely knows me, definitely doesn’t trust me, and there’s no fucking way I’m taking anyone else.

So I table the conversation and mute our messages.

For now.

But god, what I wouldn’t want to do to make her an offer. An escape from that shitty apartment, from the reckless “starving artist” routine, wandering through alleys unarmed. She didn’t see the danger she courted.

Ember Steele . Fierce but blind to the way men looked at her.

The thought of Shawn ignites something dark in my chest. That bastard won’t touch her again.

She deserves a reckoning for her carelessness—walking around the city as if she weren’t a target, a temptation. If I had my way, I’d bend her over my knee for that alone. A good spanking to remind her who the hell she belongs to.

For now, I wait.

I have plans for her, shit I want to do… if I could make this all work and appease my brother at the same time.

But I can’t get ahead of myself.

What if in the light of day she’s come to her senses and tells me to fuck off?

I shift my weight, gripping the coffee cups tighter as her front door creaks open.

I need to confront this woman about her fucking recklessness and vulnerability, so when she asked if I wanted to swing by today, I didn’t even hesitate.

The door opens, and for a few seconds, my thoughts come to a screeching halt.

She’s here.

I just saw her, but it feels like seeing her for the first time all over again.

Never in my life would I have agreed to allow her to stay alone after Shawn’s fucking display; never would I have imagined she’d be on her own, but she won’t come to my place, and she won’t let me stay at hers.

I guess in her world, that makes sense. In mine, I’m making fucking accommodations, and my patience is drawing to a close.

I hold my breath when she steps outside. Her lips, slightly parted, draw my gaze like a goddamn magnet, the morning sun catching the copper in her hair. Her emerald-green eyes widen in recognition as they meet mine, her breath catching momentarily. In an instant, the widening fades, replaced by a sharp, narrowed glare.

Though she shifts nervously, and her cheeks turn pink, her voice is conversational.

Interesting.

“Hey. So we’re really keeping up with the mask thing?”

I don’t respond right away, letting the words settle between us as I extend one of the coffee cups toward her. She doesn’t take it at first, her gaze flicking between me and the drink like she’s weighing whether or not to throw it in my face.

Finally, she snatches it, takes a tentative sip, and then narrows her eyes even further. “This is exactly the way I like it.”

I love the way she sighs contentedly as she takes another sip. “Though I guess the fact that you know how I take my coffee should be the least of my worries.

“And yet,” I say, my voice low and amused, “you drank it. As far as the mask… it’s part of my identity at this point.”

The blush deepens when she looks away. She doesn’t know how to play this—how to deal with me.

Good . It means I’ve got her off balance.

“Walk with me,” I say, already turning toward the street.

For a second, I think she won’t follow, but then I hear her boots on the pavement behind me.

We walk in silence, the city waking up around us. She’s clutching her coffee like it’s a shield, glancing at me from the corner of her eye every few steps.

“We should go to the roof,” I grumble, eying the entrance that will take us to the elevator.

With a nod, she agrees, turns a corner, and shows me a rusty metal door hidden in the shadows. I haven’t been here before. We walk across the cracked pavement.

“Where the hell does this lead?” I ask her with a growl because the very thought of her here, alone…

“Upstairs. The roof? You said that’s what we needed.”

Her shoulder brushes mine, and I can feel the tension radiating off her body like static.

Like fire.

I’ve got Ember alone, I’m masked up, and I have a detailed recollection of every single one of her damn fantasies.

Maybe there is a god.

She doesn’t know I’ve cataloged an entire list of every fucking fantasy she’s ever posted online… and I have every intention of fulfilling these fantasies.

I’m holding back. Now isn’t the time. She’s got something to tell me, and I have to be patient.

I want to kiss her again.

I want to pin her up against this wall and claim her mouth. I want her to scream and fight me, clawing at my chest, unable to push me away until she finally melts into the kiss.

But right now, I’m focused on the fact that Ember takes risks she shouldn’t, that she lives on the edge of danger, and the fact that literally anyone could take advantage of her in this alleyway.

My hands clench into fists.

“Why don’t you—” The words freeze on her lips when she looks at me. “You’re masked. I can’t read your facial expressions, and yet I can tell you want to break something. What the hell?”

“What gave it away? Was it the clenched fists?”

“No,” she says thoughtfully. With her arms crossed over her chest in an effort to self-protect, she looks little. Scared. “I think it’s the way your body’s as taut as a bowstring, and you’re growling like an animal.”

Am I?

Fuck.

“You walked over here as if this were second nature. Like you’re going to get something to drink at a fucking coffee shop. You’re obviously familiar with this entrance.”

When I don’t continue, she shakes her head and uncrosses her arm. “Sooooo… what? Your point?”

“My point is that you’re vulnerable out here, in that shitty apartment with a lock I could break if I sneezed, and you think it’s alright that you just waltz into this dark alleyway like someone couldn’t just take you. Take advantage of you when you have a fucking predator breathing down your neck.” I take in a cleansing breath. “And I’m not talking about me. ”

Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head. “Are you for real?”

“Excuse me?”

She’s getting so fucking close to my hand across her ass?—

“You say you’re Bratva. The kind of men who break the law as a matter of routine?” She stares as if waiting for the connections to click before blowing out an exasperated breath. “It just doesn’t make any sense that someone who supposedly flaunts the law gets his boxers all knotted over a dark alley?” Tipping her head to the side, she pins me in place with a stare. “Explain.”

“My boxers all knotted?” The words come out like a growl.

Maybe we don’t need to play out a scene.

Maybe she’s walked herself right into a real-life one, right here, right now.

“Are you muttering under your breath?”

I clench my teeth and consider ripping off the fucking mask so I can breathe better. “Open the fucking door, Ember. Let’s go upstairs. Now. Not one more word, or I swear to fuck?—”

Her lips part in what I can only describe as humor-laced defiance, the little fucking brat , her brow arching like she’s testing just how far she can push me. “Or you’ll what?” A theatrical shiver completes the effect. “Scowl at me harder?”

The smirk curling at the corner of her mouth is a spark to dry kindling. I step closer, shortening the distance between us, the heat palpable now.

“Or I’ll show you exactly what it means to walk into a scene you can’t talk your way out of.” My voice is low and measured but carries the weight of a promise. When she swallows, her throat bobs, the first real sign of fear.

About time. Now we’re getting somewhere.

When she lifts her chin up, I nod toward the door. “Upstairs. Now ,” I repeat, my tone leaving no room for an argument. “You want an explanation, Ember? You’ll get one. But not here. Not like this.”

Her hesitation stretches out as her eyes search mine as if looking to check the veracity of what I’m telling her. Finally, she exhales and turns toward the door before unlocking it with a sharp twist of her wrist.

I can’t help myself. Before she can step through, my hand catches her, pulling her against me. My mouth is by her ear before she can protest.

“And when we’re done, little queen,” I whisper, “you’ll understand why some lines aren’t meant to be crossed. Not by anyone .”

Her shiver tells me she’s heard every word… and that she just might be ready to test me anyway.

“Riiiight,” she says with a tight smile before she tucks under my arm and disappears into the dark. She calls over her shoulder, “Be careful on the second stair. It wobbles.”

I want to smack that perfectly taut little ass so goddamn hard—I stumble on the second step, and she sighs. I can’t help that my feet hang off the edge of the damn things.

Flights and flights of stairs later, we’re wheezing and out of breath when we make it to the rooftop.

She stops dead in her tracks, forcing me to turn back and face her. “So I—I’ve gathered you’re… into me.”

“I am. Obviously, yeah.”

Her laugh is sharp, almost bitter. “You don’t even know me.”

I lean against the wall. “I know more than you think.”

She crosses her arms, her coffee cup tucked into the crook of her elbow like a weapon. “If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t.”

“Maybe it’s not supposed to.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I think she’s going to walk away. But then she sighs and looks up at me, her eyes full of something I can’t quite name.

I lean in, close enough to feel the faint hitch in her breath. “Tell me, Ember, when you post those book scenes, do you ever imagine someone like me reading them?”

I watch her pupils dilate and her throat move as she swallows. “I always imagined a man like you’d have a better use for your time.”

Ouch. My brother would agree. I blow out a breath. “Yeah.”

She stands up taller. “Listen…you saw how problematic Shawn is.”

I grunt in reply but don’t interrupt.

“This is maybe the craziest idea in the world, but…the hate comments have all but stopped since you’ve been interacting with me. And I just think that… well, maybe if he won’t accept a no from me, he might if he thinks you’re my boyfriend.”

Her cheeks flush.

I knew it. I won’t hesitate, not when she’s giving me exactly what I want. “First, you’re going to tell me exactly who the fuck Shawn is and why I need to fuck him up. Second, you will not fuck around with your safety. If I’m going to pretend to be your fake boyfriend or whatever the fuck, then you’re not gonna poke holes in the bucket by doing stupid shit.”

“I didn’t say you have to fuck him up?—”

“As if I’d pretend to be your boyfriend and not take that step if I had to.”

Her eyes widen, before she finally nods.

I pause, letting my words hold weight. “And I’ll have a condition of my own.”

Actually more like twelve conditions, but I’ll ease her in.

Relief flickers across her face, but she quickly masks it, her walls slamming back into place. “There always is,” she says with a sigh. “What?”

There always is? What the fuck?

“We do this on my terms,” I begin, stepping closer until we’re toe-to-toe. “We’re doing this at my place, not yours. I wouldn’t fit in your shower.”

Her jaw drops slightly, a flush rising to her cheeks again. “I— what ?”

“You heard me,” I say, my smirk returning. “Your apartment is a hazard. I’m not letting you live there while some asshole’s breathing down your neck.”

She takes a step back, shaking her head. “I don’t know about this.”

“Then it’s off.” My temper flares. There’s no way it’s actually off. She’s given me exactly what I want—a chance to protect her. But she isn’t making it easy.

Ember plants her hands on her hips. “You think I’m asking you to protect me, to keep me away from an actual predator, and I’m going to do this by putting myself in the close proximity of a stranger who claims he’s Bratva ? How can you claim you want me to be safe and make good decisions, then make an offer like that ?”

Fair point.

“Fine,” I say, letting out an exaggerated sigh. I’ll let her have her way. For now. “Stay in your place, but we’re dating. Officially. Publicly . But if we’re dating, I’m taking you on a date.”

“Fake dating,” she corrects, her voice firm. She glares at me, but there’s a flicker of something else behind her eyes. Curiosity? Intrigue? I don’t care what it is—it’s enough to keep her standing here, enough to keep me in her orbit.

“Listen, Ember. I’ll gladly keep you safe, but I want this clear. If we’re pretending to date, you’re getting the full Bratva experience.”

She nods. “Alright, but another condition of mine?”

I grin at her and nod. Relief floods through me.

“No mask.”